This tiny apartment only had a single bathroom, so Jamison had to wash up in the hallway. For someone of his status, living in a place like this was practically self-inflicted torture. Yet with his wife beside him, even this so-called “slum” felt cozy and romantic–and he found himself actually liking it.
Ivy was propped up in bed reading. When she saw him come in after his shower, she glanced up briefly before returning to her book. The mattress dipped as Jamison sat down. He bounced on it pointedly. “Not a bad bed, actually.”
“Obviously. Boyd picked it out based on your preferences–of course it’s comfortable.”
Jamison grinned over his shoulder. “That’s a pretty tart comment. Don’t tell me you don’t like it?”
“I like it. I get to enjoy all the benefits without lifting a finger–what’s not to love?”
She was only half-joking. Boyd had handled everything: the apartment, the furniture, even the cleaning and the move itself. Compared to her days three years ago as Miss Windsor, life now was so much more comfortable. She knew how to count her blessings, and she truly had no complaints.
Jamison was equally content. He lay back, stretched out, and let out a long, satisfied sigh. Ivy was already sleepy, planning to finish her page before turning off the light for the night. But Jamison wasn’t so patient. He rolled over and leaned in to kiss her.
“Wait, let me finish this page…”
“What book could possibly be more interesting than your husband?” he teased, craning his neck to check the cover–a thick accounting textbook. “You really are the most studious woman I’ve ever met.”
“Oh, really?” Ivy shot him a sly smile. “Isn’t the most studious woman you’ve ever met that Dr. Quinn?”
Jamison froze for a split second, then suddenly brightened. “Did I just detect a hint of jealousy?”
“Please. That’s all in your head.” Ivy replied dryly. She finished her page and dropped the book onto the nightstand. She turned to lie down, but before her back had even touched the mattress, Jamison was already leaning over her. “Let’s test out the bed properly.”
Ivy shot him a playful glare. “Aren’t you tired after a full day? You still have the energy?”
“I was exhausted–until I saw you.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper as his kisses found her, and soon they were lost in each other. Ivy had grown used to his affection–and, if she was honest, she’d come to crave it, even get a little drunk on it.
But tonight, there was something she needed to say.
“Jamison, wait–I need to talk to you.” She put a hand on his chest, gently holding him back.
Jamison didn’t stop entirely, his reply muffled against her skin. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”
Ivy got straight to the point. “Micah and Emma are really back together.”
At that, Jamison’s movements stilled. The heat in his gaze cooled in an instant, replaced by a sharp, tense edge. She knew he’d been swamped all day and probably hadn’t heard the news, so she kept her explanation brief. “Micah’s mother showed up at Emma’s place today and kicked her out. Emma checked into a cheap motel, and this afternoon, Micah went to see her there–and he hasn’t left since…”
“I mean, if he was just helping her out, he could’ve just given her some money and called it a day. But a man and a woman alone together in a motel for half the day? I can’t imagine what else they’d be doing.”
Boyd had casually mentioned all this while helping her move earlier that evening. She’d thought it over and was convinced–Micah and Emma were definitely back together.
Jamison’s brow furrowed in deep concern, his mood gone. He rolled onto his back and leaned against the headboard. “Micah must know Emma’s pregnant. Does he really want to play stepdad?”
Ivy shifted, curling up against him. “What’s so strange about that? He’s gotten Emma pregnant before–remember? That child didn’t make it… Maybe now he’s trying to atone for the past.”